


wrapped in red

by arysa13



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cheating, Christmas, Daddy Kink, Embarrassment, F/M, Fluff, Jealousy, Light Bondage, Misunderstandings, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Smut, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28267884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: Bellamy’s flight home is cancelled, and he returns to his dorm to find his roommate’s girlfriend naked, on his bed, tied up in ribbons. Naturally he assumes she’s done it for him.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 40
Kudos: 400
Collections: Bellarke Secret Santa 2020





	wrapped in red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [logologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/logologist/gifts).



> Merry Christmas from your secret santa!

Bellamy feels like he should probably be more pissed off that his flight home has been cancelled, but honestly, he mostly just feels relieved. He’s never been a huge fan of the holidays, seeing as his mom never had the money to buy him and his sister anything more than socks and school supplies, and was usually working as much as she could anyway.

Besides that, it’s commercial crap, though people like to pretend it’s about more. He prefers to let the occasion pass uncelebrated, and up until this year, his mom and sister have too.

But Aurora is apparently dating some new guy with cash to spare, and they’re supposed to be doing the whole family Christmas dinner thing, along with Octavia’s boyfriend as well, whom Bellamy has actually met, and isn’t a fan of. Plus, Octavia seems to hate him more than usual lately, which has something to do with him being rude to her boyfriend, and something to do with him yelling at her after he found whiskey stashed in her car despite her being only seventeen.

So yeah, the fact that he has a rock-solid excuse not to go? He’s not exactly mad about it. He’s more annoyed that he’d made it all the way to the airport in a fucking blizzard before he found out the flight was cancelled, and now he has to make the trip back to his overly festive dorm room.

That’s courtesy of his roommate, Finn. Or at least, his roommate’s girlfriend, who’d set up a miniature Christmas tree for them, made of plastic, but with an authentic pine scent. Bellamy had wanted to tell her no, but he couldn’t bring himself to spoil her fun, not when she seemed so excited about decorating their room for them, and Finn was less than enthusiastic.

 _Someone_ had to help Clarke decorate, and if for a minute or two Bellamy forgot he hated Christmas while he was hanging tinsel and listening to her sing along to Kelly Clarkson’s Christmas album, well that’s no one’s business but his own.

Bellamy manages to get a taxi back to the dorms, and he texts Finn on his way to let his roommate know he’s coming back and Finn won’t have the dorm to himself tonight as planned. He knows it’s Finn’s last night in the city before he goes to see his family for winter break, and he’ll probably be spending it with Clarke. Bellamy feels less guilty than he should that he’s probably interrupting their evening together.

In fact, he’s feeling almost chipper at the possibility of spending the evening with Clarke, even with Finn there too. He knows she’s not going home to see her family for Christmas—some kind of falling out with her mom. Maybe after Finn goes home tomorrow—as long as the trains aren’t cancelled like his own flight was—Bellamy could see if Clarke wants to spend the holiday together.

The remainder of his taxi ride is spent staring out the window, daydreaming about ice-skating with Clarke, taking her out to look at Christmas light displays, hot chocolate in some cosy little café, buying her that sparkling ruby necklace he saw when he accidentally walked through the jewellery section of the department store while Christmas shopping for his mom and sister.

That’s the part the snaps him out of his fantasy. Like he has the money to buy a five-hundred-dollar necklace for _someone else’s girlfriend._ He rubs his face with his hand, groaning to himself. God, he’s pathetic. He could have pretty much any girl he wants, and he went and fell in love with his roommate’s girlfriend. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

The taxi driver drops him off in front of the dorms, and Bellamy battles the weather to get inside, thankful he only brought a small duffle bag with him and not a suitcase.

He gets a response from Finn as he makes his way to their room, stating that he’s drinking with friends tonight and won’t be home. Bellamy has mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, no Finn, meaning he’ll get some peace and quiet for once. On the other hand, no Clarke. Which, now that he thinks about it, is probably also a good thing. One of these days Finn is going to notice him mooning over her and call him out about it. Bellamy seriously needs to kick his crush before that happens.

He reaches his dorm room and kicks the door open, tossing his bag on the floor before he notices anything out of the ordinary. Then he looks towards his bed, and he freezes, and for a moment his brain, his lungs, and his heart stop working.

He stares—how could he _not_ stare? Because there, on his bed, is Clarke. And she’s fucking _naked_ —mostly. The only thing covering her body are lengths of red ribbon, wrapped around her open thighs, securing her arms behind her back. Her magnificent tits are thrust out, ribbon running beneath them and between them, but doing nothing to cover her dark pink nipples, hardened from arousal or chill he doesn’t know.

The ribbon forms a sort of downwards triangle between her legs, the bright red a darker scarlet where it slips between her pussy lips, and it takes him a moment to realise it’s because she’s fucking soaked it right through.

There’s a strip of red silk covering her eyes as a makeshift blindfold, and another between her ruby painted lips, effectively gagging her.

Bellamy swallows thickly as he takes all this in, hardly daring to breathe in case he wakes up. He’s imagined her naked countless times, thought about fucking her, running his tongue between her legs, pushing his cock into her mouth. But he’s never thought about her quite like _this_. His cock throbs, bouncing to attention like a fucking jack-in-the-box.

He can’t believe she did this for him. Gifted herself to him. Because obviously this is for him—she’s on _his_ bed after all. It’s like she took a peek right into his wildest fantasies and decided to make his dreams come true. It’s some kind of Christmas miracle, and Bellamy is beginning to see why people love this holiday so much.

His heart is thudding so hard in his chest it’s the only thing he can hear. His hands are actually _shaking_ as he approaches her, and he has to lick his lips several times to moisten them.

He stops in front of her, gazing down at her. She’s trembling slightly, and his stomach swoops, knowing she’s nervous too. Has she wanted this as long as he has?

He lets his eyes rake over her again, almost too overwhelmed to even know where to start. He wants to tug on that ribbon between her legs. Wants to put his mouth there, taste her. Wants to suck on her nipples, pinch them between his fingers. Wants to unwrap her slowly and fuck her senseless. But he probably shouldn’t _start_ there.

As much as he likes the sight of her gagged, he also wants to kiss her, wants to hear her sultry voice tell him how bad she wants it, how she can’t stop thinking about his massive cock, how she just wants to please him.

He slips his fingers under the silk beside her lips and gently pulls in from her mouth. She swallows.

“Merry Christmas, daddy,” she murmurs, and Bellamy swears he almost spontaneously combusts. This has got to be the sexiest thing that’s ever happened to him in his life.

He tilts her chin up with his fingers, and leans in. She smells like fucking cinnamon. He brushes his lips over hers, and they part for him, and then he’s kissing her, he’s actually kissing her. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’s thought about this.

The whimper that escapes her when his tongue licks into her mouth sends a jolt right to his cock. Oh god. Fucking god.

He pulls back. “I didn’t get you anything,” he whispers, and as soon as he speaks the words, he feels Clarke’s body tense, and her whole demeanour changes from pliant and eager to closed-off and anxious. He’s not sure what he’s done wrong.

“Bellamy?” she squeaks. He lifts the blindfold from her eyes, and her eyes widen in horror. “Oh god. Oh my god. Get out!” she shrieks, panicked. “Don’t look at me!”

Bellamy stumbles back, dazed, bewildered by her sudden mood swing. Fuck. Fuck. His brain catches up, and he realises the gut-dropping truth—she’s not for him at all. She was waiting for _Finn_. Her boyfriend. Because of course she fucking was.

“Sorry,” he blurts out. “Sorry! Sorry.” He doesn’t look away though. He can’t.

Her tits jiggle as she moves, trying to cover herself somehow, give herself some semblance of modesty. She brings her knees together, but he can still see her shaved mound, her perfect, perky breasts. With her hands tied behind her back, she’s helpless, her body defenceless against his gaze. Her face is blazing red, her humiliation evident.

She manages to wriggle into a position where she’s lying on her stomach, so her most intimate parts are safe from his lustful eyes. But her ass is now on display for him, and he has to stifle a groan when he sees the plug nestled between her cheeks, topped with a red bow. He finally snaps his eyes closed, but the image is etched into his brain.

“What are you even doing here?” Clarke snaps.

“My flight got cancelled,” Bellamy explains hurriedly. “God, I’m sorry. I’m not looking anymore, I swear.”

Clarke groans, the sound of pure embarrassment. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why would you not just leave? Why are you _still here_?”

“I’m sorry!” he repeats. He really can’t apologise enough. “I read the situation wrong, I thought—” he stops, swallowing. God, he can’t admit he thought she’d done it for him. It seems ridiculous now that he could have ever thought that. “Finn’s not coming. He told me he’s drinking with friends tonight.”

“Oh my god,” Clarke cringes. “This is humiliating.”

Bellamy feels foolish, and guilty, but still incredibly turned on. He’s also not exactly thrilled about being privy to the kind of sex life Clarke and Finn have, mostly because he’s insanely jealous that Finn gets to have her this way and he doesn’t. He’s not jealous about much else, especially when it comes to Finn, but this has him hot with envy.

“Let me untie you,” he says, swallowing down his jealousy. “Or I can call whoever it was the helped tie you up.”

“Josie,” Clarke says absently. She doesn’t sound mad anymore, but Bellamy still doesn’t relax. He’s desperate for her to forgive him.

He gets his phone out, accidentally sneaking a peek at Clarke, tied up on the bed. His cock throbs, and he quickly averts his eyes, though he can’t stop himself from wondering how big the plug inside her is. He turns his back to her, hoping he won’t feel tempted to look again.

“What’s her number?”

“Bellamy,” Clarke says. Slowly, steady. “You thought I did this for you, didn’t you?”

He feels the blush creep over his face, and his stomach twist. “Yes,” he admits reluctantly.

“Why?”

“To be fair, you are on _my_ bed.” One glance at Finn’s bed tells him why she picked his bed to wait on though. His roommate’s bed is unmade, and has clothes all over it. Plus, there’s no telling how long it’s been since Finn changed his sheets.

“You kissed me.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

More silence, filled only by the sound of Bellamy’s erratic heartbeat. God, he really has fucked this up. The rest of the year is just going to be awkward encounters with Clarke, and probably Finn too, once Clarke tells him what happened. Bellamy can only hope Finn doesn’t try to fight him once he finds out he kissed his girlfriend.

“Will you untie me?” Clarke says quietly.

“Are you sure?”

“You’ve already seen everything anyway,” she points out. “Just my hands.”

Point taken, Bellamy turns back around, and steps back over to the bed. He tries to focus solely on his task, but it’s hard when inches below where her wrists are bound she’s got a plug stuffed in her ass. He wants to tug on it so bad, watch her clench around it as she tries to keep it inside.

He unties the knot at her wrist and lets the ribbon unravel before stepping away, politely focusing on something on the other side of the room while she sits up. Clarke quickly throws Bellamy’s blanket around her naked, ribbon-clad body.

“I really am sorry,” he says. “I guess—I just wanted you so bad it just didn’t even occur to me that you didn’t do this for me,” he forces himself to admit. It’s only fair for him to make a fool of himself in front of her, when she’s so obviously embarrassed at him seeing her like that. He doesn’t mention that he hates the thought of her belonging to someone else. “Stupid, huh?”

“To be fair,” Clarke says, “I am on your bed.” She has this wry little smile on her face, her eyes sparkling, and Bellamy deflates a little. She’s not mad. Embarrassed, probably, but so is he, and they can get over that.

He nods, and Clarke ducks her head, blushing again. Bellamy feels himself colouring again too, and her clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. God, she looks so sexy. So fucking sexy he wants to die.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “How long were you there? Do you want me to go get you something to eat while you get dressed?”

“I’m okay,” Clarke says. “It was only like five or ten minutes. And um. I made Josie take my clothes. So I’d have to wear Finn’s home.”

Bellamy tries not to scowl at the thought of it, Clarke wearing nothing but Finn’s clothes. It should be _his_ clothes she’s wearing. The fact that Josie got to be the one to tie her up doesn’t sit well with him either.

“To be honest I’m a little offended you didn’t realise I wasn’t Finn as soon as I kissed you,” he snorts.

“I think I was enjoying it too much to think that deeply about it.”

His annoyance dissipates and he laughs nervously, as his stomach swoops again. She enjoyed it, at least. That’s something.

“Well,” he says, swallowing. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Finn.”

She sighs, and her face falls. Bellamy feels the urge to rush to her side and comfort her, but he’s still keenly aware that she’s basically naked under that blanket and that he should probably just leave before she considers him even more of a creep.

“Tell him what you like,” she says. “I’m pretty sure it’s over. This was kind of a last-ditch effort to get his attention. But apparently he forgot we were even supposed to be hanging out tonight.”

Bellamy is pretty sure Finn is the stupidest fucking man on the planet. He has _Clarke_ , and he’s absolutely not treating her like the princess she is.

“He’s an idiot,” Bellamy says vehemently. “He has no idea what he’s missing out on.”

“Even if he was here, he’d probably barely notice me,” Clarke scoffs. “Josie made me feel sexier this afternoon than Finn has done in months. She even offered to go down on me if Finn wasn’t into it.”

Bellamy licks his lips, only hesitating a moment before he takes his shot. It’s not like it could get any _more_ awkward, right?

“Well, she’s not here,” he says. “I am, though.”

Clarke’s eyes snap to his. “You want to fuck me?”

Bellamy raises an eyebrow. He really thought she was more astute than that. Did the words _I wanted you so bad_ not clue her in? “I thought that was pretty obvious.”

She swallows. “Why? Because I’m a naked girl on your bed?”

He shrugs. “I mean, that definitely helps. But it’s also because I have an embarrassingly huge crush on you.”

“You do?” she squeaks.

“Clarke. I hate Christmas. Not only did I let your turn my dorm into a Christmas display, I actually helped you set it up. I even wore the Santa hat you put on me.”

“I thought you were just being nice.”

“I was. Because I have a crush on you,” he says. “I’ve barely been able to fuck anyone else, because I can only ever think about _you_. God, if you knew the things I want to do to you.”

Clarke bites her lip, flushing. She squirms uncomfortably, and Bellamy’s stomach drops. Okay, he definitely made it worse. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Sorry. Forget I said anything. I’m going to go. You can grab whatever you want out of my closet to wear. Let’s just pretend this never happened, yeah? Or you can avoid me for the rest of your life if you like, that’s—”

“Bellamy,” Clarke interrupts him. He looks at her, jaw tight. And then she lets the blanket drop. He half thinks it’s an accident, for just a moment, but she doesn’t move to pick it up, just sits there in front of him, naked, apart from those fucking ribbons.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He’s not sure he’s able to. This time, she really is offering herself up to him. He swallows thickly. She holds out her wrists. “Tie me up, daddy? I’ve been so naughty this year. Let me make it up to you.”

Still, Bellamy hesitates. He doesn’t know why he’s hesitating. The woman of his dreams is tied up naked on his bed, practically begging him to fuck her. And he’s waiting for—what? Some assurance she actually likes him too? Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

“Clarke,” he groans, and he sounds so fucking desperate it’s embarrassing. He wants her, he really wants her. And he knows he’s the one that offered, but he’s also terrified it will just be this one time and then she’ll forget all about him and he’ll be left pining like an abandoned puppy. “Are you sure? You’re not just doing this because you’re mad at Finn, right? Because—I really like you, you know? If you’re just trying to get his attention—”

“I’m not,” she assures him. “Finn had his chance. And to be honest, every time you’re around, I kind of forget he exists. You know when I made you decorate this room with me? I swear I almost kissed you like three times, and Finn was literally sitting there in the room.”

“Was it the Santa hat that did it?” Bellamy says, deflecting her confession with a joke. Like he still can’t quite believe that _she_ would want _him._

“I thought you looked really sexy in that Santa hat,” she tells him. “But I bet you look even better naked.” Bellamy blinks at her. “Bellamy,” she whines. “Please fuck me before this gets any more humiliating.”

It finally occurs to him that if he doesn’t take this opportunity now, it may never present itself again, and he’ll probably regret it for the rest of his life, knowing he’s the absolute stupidest man on the planet.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” he assures her. She blinks back at him, like she’s waiting for him to prove it.

Slowly, he toes off his shoes and socks, and shucks his jacket to the floor. Next is his sweater, pulling it over his head along with his shirt. Clarke’s eyes land on his chest, trail over his arms, his shoulders, his chest, want evident in her eyes. Finally, he unbuttons his jeans, ignoring the shake of his hands as he pushes them down and steps out of them, leaving him in his boxers.

She eyes his bulge as he pads over to the bed and sits down beside her. He takes her offered wrists in his hands, and he can feel her rapid pulse under his thumbs. She drags her gaze away from his crotch to look at him.

He leans in, closing his eyes, pausing for half a second, millimetres from her mouth, where their breath intermingles. She shivers, and then he closes the gap, capturing her lips with his. He teases her mouth open, then kisses her deeper, and she meets his tongue with hers with a greediness he wouldn’t have expected.

He shifts his shoulders towards her, pushing her back, until her head hits his pillow, and he’s on top of her, still kissing her. He devours her, then pulls back, lets his lips just ghost hers, drags his teeth across her bottom lip. She’s pliant beneath him, eager to follow his lead, open to anything.

“You can blindfold me again if you want,” she breathes. “Or put the gag back in.”

“Not this time.” He shakes his head, lips brushing hers with the movement. “I want to hear you. Want to see you.”

“Another time,” Clarke breathes. Yes, another time. God, let there be another time.

He kisses her again, and he takes her wrists and pushes them above her head. He locates the ribbon he discarded before, and loops it around them, tying it loosely enough that it won’t hurt her, but tight enough that she can’t escape.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, taking in the sight before him. Her tits are thrust towards him, nipples hard and practically begging to be sucked. He finally allows himself the pleasure.

He drags his mouth down the curve of her breast, across her areola, and he can practically feel her anticipation. Or maybe it’s his own that he can feel. Her breath hitches as he sucks her nipple into his mouth, arching ever so slightly towards him. He palms her other breast, and it’s definitely for more for him than for her. He can’t get enough of the feel of her soft tits, could spend hours with his attention on them alone.

But he also badly wants to fuck her, and his cock is so hard it’s almost painful now. Clarke is squirming underneath him, squeezing her thighs together, rubbing her ass against the bed. She lets out a soft moan, and it isn’t until then that Bellamy realises she’s actually using the ribbon between her legs to get herself off. And maybe the plug in her ass too.

He growls, popping her nipple from his mouth, and grabbing a thigh in each hand, wrenching them apart. “That needy, are you? Gonna make yourself come before I even get to touch your pussy?”

She whimpers. “Please,” she groans.

He moves his hand to the ribbon at her hipbone, sliding his index finger under it, tugging on it even so slightly so it rubs against her clit, slips further into her folds. He runs his finger down the ribbon, between her legs to where the ribbon is slick with her arousal.

“Fucking soaking,” he murmurs. “How’d you get this wet, huh? Don’t tell me it’s because you were thinking about Finn.”

“I like being tied up,” she whispers. “And on display. And I like—having something in my ass,” she blushes as she says the last part.

A sound of pure, desperate lust escapes his mouth. “Of course you do.” He dips his hand lower, between her ass cheeks, and presses hard on the bow sticking out of her ass. She whines pathetically.

“Please, daddy,” she says, her voice shaky with desperation. “Please fuck me. I need to come, I need to come. I need your cock inside me.”

“Poor thing,” he coos. “Been neglected too long, haven’t you, baby? Daddy’s gonna take care of you now.”

He drops his head between her legs, lets his tongue glide over the drenched ribbon, tasting her for the first time. He runs his hands up her thighs to her hips, where two little bows hold the ribbons between her legs in place. He tugs them undone, then pulls the ribbon from between her legs, making sure it drags against her clit the whole way.

With the ribbon removed, he has an unobstructed view of her cunt, completely bare, open and wet. Her clit pokes out, and Bellamy flicks his tongue over it, revelling in her tiny squeak of surprise.

“Bellamy,” she moans. “Fuck me. Please fuck me.”

She asked enough times now, he thinks. And if he doesn’t get inside her soon, he might fucking come in his boxers. Impatient now, Bellamy procures a condom from the top drawer of his nightstand. His boxers come off, and the sound that comes out of Clarke’s mouth when she sees his cock is enough to send his ego flying through the roof.

With the condom on, he kneels between her open, ribbon adorned legs, bringing his face close to hers and kissing her over and over and over. She tilts her hips up towards him, rubbing her pussy against his cock. God, she’s needy. He loves that.

Hand on the back of her thigh, the other holding her bound wrists in place above her head, he pushes into her, her slickness making it easy, despite his size.

“Fuck,” he grunts as he thrusts. “God, you take my cock so well. You feel so fucking good, baby.”

Clarke only whimpers in response, and it’s not too long before Bellamy finds himself incapable of words as well. Their sounds, their sweat, their breath, their bodies become one, in time with each other. Bellamy feels like he’s able to read her better than anyone else he’s ever fucked.

He can sense her impending orgasm with the change of her breath, and he knows he’s just as close. He drops a hand between them, his fingers finding the plug in her ass, and he gives the bow a tug, only gently, but it’s enough to push her over, make her cry out in pleasure as the orgasm shudders through her, and he cunt clenches around him, squeezing him for all he’s worth.

The sound of her, the feel of her makes him lose it, and he moans her name as he comes, his cock thrust deep inside her. He’s barely finished, and he already wants her again. Wants to take her bare, wants her from behind, in her mouth, her ass. In her bed, in Finn’s bed, in her parent’s bed, in a bed they share together. In a bar, an in alley, in a pool. He’s never going to get enough of this.

When he’s recovered enough to think straight, he removes the tie from around Clarke’s wrists, rubbing them soothingly, before getting up to dispose of the condom. The thought of Finn seeing it in the trash later gives him a sick thrill.

“Bellamy?” Clarke says as he returns to the bed.

“Yeah, baby?” he murmurs, kissing her shoulder. He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to stop calling her baby now that they aren’t having sex, but now that he’s started he can’t seem to help himself.

“Will you, um, take my plug out? It’s kind of uncomfortable now.”

“Of course, baby.”

She rolls over onto her stomach, and he gently eases the plug from her ass. His eyes bulge at the size of it. No fucking wonder it was uncomfortable. But god, her ass is going to be so ready for his cock when the time comes.

He rubs her ass soothingly, setting the plug aside. Then he sets to work untying her remaining ribbons, freeing her from the bindings. It’s so fucking sensual and intimate he’s half hard again by the time he’s done. Sexy as it was for her to be wrapped up like that, seeing her fully naked, soft and bare, is something else entirely.

She shivers, and he’s quick to grab his sweater, help her pull it over her head, as if she isn’t perfectly capable of doing it herself. Then he bundles her up in his arms, snuggling under the blankets with her. Her cinnamon scent, and the pine from the fake tree in the room, makes it smell like Christmas. It’s still snowing outside, but Bellamy feels safe and warm wrapped up with Clarke in his bed.

“Is it too harsh to break up with Finn via text so close to Christmas?” Clarke asks.

“No,” Bellamy says instantly. “If I hadn’t come back, you’d still be tied up waiting for him, so it’s the least he deserves.”

“Okay,” Clarke says happily. “Hand me my phone.”

He grabs it from the nightstand and gives it to her, and she doesn’t falter once as he watches her quickly type out a succinct, somewhat sympathetic, but final, break up text.

“Done,” she says, dropping her phone to the bed. She turns to Bellamy, and their noses brush. “Now I’m all yours.”

“I like the sound of that.” He kisses her, just once, slow and sweet.

“Do you still hate Christmas?” she asks.

“It’s growing on me,” he chuckles. “Perhaps you could help me make some more happy memories associated with it.”

“Like sucking your cock under some mistletoe?”

“God, you’re dirty,” he snorts. “I was thinking a date? Ice skating or something. And then after you can suck my cock under the mistletoe.”

“Deal,” Clarke agrees, and then she kisses him, and she doesn’t stop kissing him, until he’s fully hard again. “This time I want you to wear the Santa hat while you fuck me.”

Bellamy laughs, but he does as he’s asked. And he thinks maybe Christmas actually is the most magical time of the year.


End file.
